


Flickering Flame

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bittersweet, It might come across as sad but it isn't supposed to be, M/M, This really isn't supposed to be sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 22:44:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9261263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: With a lazy hand, Dean reached out for the flame, startling those who hovered by his side. He did not know what he hoped to accomplish in grasping for it, but the flame was too far away for his liking.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this isn't supposed to be really sad. I had this general idea and when trying to think of which ship it could be applied to, Deamus made the most sense.

The world had become a soft blur, filled with aimless colors and shapes. Moments of clarity were becoming less and less frequent, but Dean was constantly aware of the flickering flame by his bedside, casting dancing shadows. He could not remember who lit it, nor why, but Dean was thankful for its presence. It alone remained jovial and free. All others who entered the room wore long faces and spoke in hushed, broken voices, but the flame flickered on, happily defiant.

With a lazy hand, Dean reached out for the flame, startling those who hovered by his side. He did not know what he hoped to accomplish in grasping for it, but the flame was too far away for his liking. He wanted it close enough to feel rather than just admire. There was a coldness in his bones that the blankets and charms could not do away with.

“It’s okay.” His daughter—their daughter—spoke in a small voice as she took Dean’s hand in her own, keeping wrinkled skin safe from the candle. “We’re here, Dad. We’re all here.”

Dean smiled, more for her than himself, and nodded dumbly. He struggled to brush the back of his hand against her cheek, and he felt the warm remnants of tears there.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he whispered. “No more tears. It’s just my time, that’s all.”

“Don’t say that,” she gasped desperately. “It’s not. You can’t leave me. Not yet.”

He held her hand loosely, unsure of what to say. Twenty years ago, he had said the same thing, only to be told he had no choice in the matter. And just like that, in a little white room, the brightest, greatest flame in his life flickered out of existence. Alone, he had returned to a home that no longer smelt like smoke and had dwelt there for twenty years, smiling patiently as the years rolled by.

“Your father is waiting for me,” Dean said at last. “He has been waiting too long.”

“He can wait a little longer.” She was crying. “There’s medicine in the Muggle world that can--”

“No, my child,” Dean cut her off. Medicine and technology might be able to prolong his life for another year or five or ten – maybe longer, should he live long enough to see the next great medical advancement. But while it pained Dean greatly to leave behind his children and grandchildren, the thought of continuing on any longer was too heavy a burden for his soul to bear. “There’s no need to cry for me. This is not a sad day.”

How hollow the words must sound to the fully living, but Dean meant them with great sincerity. A lonely day, perhaps, but not sad. Never sad.

The candle flickered, its light dying with every passing moment. Soon, he would be warm again, reunited with the flame of his life.

“It’s time,” Dean sighed.  

**Author's Note:**

> Remember that the wizarding world kinda knows what happens to them post-death, so for Dean, it genuinely would be the opportunity to Seamus once again. (I pictured Dean being about 90-something, meaning both had long, happy lives).


End file.
